


sometimes

by civillove



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 2x22, Episode Reaction, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows that they’ve never exactly been anything but it’s always felt like everything. </p><p>((2x22 response fic; I just had a lot of snowbarry feelings.)) </p><p>Obviously I don't claim anything from the Flash or it's characters. This is just for fun, not profit!</p>
            </blockquote>





	sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I still haven’t seen the last few episodes of the flash but I spoiled myself in snowbarry and wanted to write fic. So if any of this seems oddly inaccurate to what’s been going on in the show, that’s why. (As in, Barry still doesn’t have his powers in this fic, I kept them away from him---I have no idea why, I’m a mess)
> 
> AN2: This is AU, as in, this kind of follows my other snowbarry fics in some retrospect. I include lines from melt, and as much as I adore Patty she doesn’t exist in this AU.

 

Caitlin Snow has been through a lot.

And that’s not to say she’s trying to underscore what other people have been through, people she knows and loves. People who have lost so much more than her. But…the cracks and fissures that she thought were gone, healed up, faded away, keep ripping open. Jagged angry skin, red pinpricks of blood, that emotional black hole that comes right along with it.

She’s lost some things.

People, memories, sometimes her dignity, her ability to keep a cool head, a calm and collected composure. She lost Ronnie, twice, and Jay only once. But it feels like it goes much deeper than loss because, losing someone is deeper than the ache she feels. She feels betrayed, maybe that’s the right word. She’s usually much better at things like this, assessing how she feels. She’s a doctor after all. But maybe the part that’s tripping her up is that this is all emotional pain, it can’t be measured or evaluated, it doesn’t go away with cool or warm compresses, bed rest and pills.

No it’s…it’s just something she has to learn to live with. A dark and dense part of her soul that’s always there. Sometimes lighter, sometimes heavier than she can bear. But other people help her carry it.

Barry helps her carry it, and he started doing so without even realizing it. Barry Allen often does that, he thinks he needs his suit and his super speed to help people, but Caitlin knows that’s not true.

He just has to… _be_ there and that’s it. That’s all it takes. He was someone special long before lightening hit him.

Caitlin Snow has been through a lot but she hasn’t let it break her.

Not yet. She loses the first love of her life and turns very cold, almost to ice. It’s ironic seeing how she knows exactly who her doppelganger is on Earth 2, with a touch like frost and gaze like unforgiving snow storms. She thought she might lose herself in it, in how it felt, the deep and cold darkness she could fall into and sometimes wake up okay.

But then Barry came into her life, thawed her out, made parts of her warm again. He couldn’t do this thing he does without her, without Cisco and Dr. Wells. She wonders if he realizes how many times he’s actually saved her without his suit on.

She loses little parts of herself along the way, especially when it comes to trust. Past figures in her life come back to haunt her, like Hartley. While she has always prided herself on being on top of things, he takes her by surprise, backhands her right across her face. She doesn’t feel guilty anymore, she used to, but after the millionth time that Barry had told her it wasn’t her fault that the lab wasn’t as protected as she wanted it to be she caved. Melted a little bit more. Right between his fingertips.

She lets him in, far more than anyone else. Sometimes she compares him to Ronnie and shames herself for doing so; they’re nothing alike and should not be compared. They were both so integral in parts of her life that she realizes she needed both of them.

She just needs one more than the other.

Caitlin jerks at the sound of her name, she doesn’t realize how much she’s been shaking until Barry’s father touches her shoulder.

“I’m just going to take your blood pressure, alright?” He says kindly, has Barry’s eyes. His smile. She tumbles into their genetic similarities head first before she nods, very slowly.

She feels a bit disconnected from her body, from this experience, and slips back into her thoughts. Becomes numb to touch.

No, she feels a sting on her cheekbone. But that can’t be from Ja—Zoom. He didn’t hurt her. It’s from something else. A memory, maybe. She was thinking about Hartley, about him sneaking up on her.

She closes her eyes.

_“I’m fine, too.” Caitlin curls her soft brown hair around her ear, chewing on her lower lip._

_Barry catches her by surprise by reaching to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bruised cheekbone. She winces and pulls back from him, her hand resting on his forearm._

_“That doesn’t look fine.”_

They had a fight a while ago, but she doesn’t exactly remember what it was about. Or maybe she does. It was one of those things where one statement is taken exactly the wrong way—and something pops and fizzles and explodes. It wasn’t about one specific thing, the fight had branches—little nooks and crannies of arguments that had built up over time and had suddenly come out into the open.

A fight about nothing and somehow everything at the exact same time.

It was before Jay, before Zoom. After she lost Ronnie for a second time, where in this limbo period of their relationship that late nights over data, coffee trips in the morning and shared touches and too-long glances started to mean something. More than friendship but still drenched in too much gray that there was no definition.

The timeline seems disjointed; they’ve done so much with altering time and space and realities that sometimes she has no idea what’s up and what’s down, what’s past and present. Where her future will actually end up.

But she remembers how angry she was, how Barry’s carefree yet tired smile was just enough to tip her off the edge.

_Everyone at STAR Labs is packing up for the night, another day of fighting meta-humans successful. Another day under their belt. Caitlin holds back when Cisco leaves, packing up some supplies she left out in her lab in the midst of chaos._

_Part of her knows that staying behind has nothing to do with cleaning, it’s because she’s not ready to go home yet. To an empty apartment. To an empty bed. Sometimes Barry joins her, sometimes not. She’s not used to something like this, unexpected, unpredictable. But that’s what she and Barry are: they go by feeling, by touch. Something that is there but not always corporal. Caitlin has never done something like this, she’s so used to planning things out, seeing it develop eight steps ahead. And the fact that she can’t do that with Barry scares her._

_Maybe that’s just it. Spontaneity is something that she doesn’t necessarily want. But needs instead._

_Caitlin pauses when she feels that telltale sign of air swooshing past her that she’s not alone. She stands a little straighter and fixes her hair but says nothing._

_“I thought you went home,” Barry says to fill the silence, shifts on his feet behind her._

_“You thought wrong.” She still doesn’t turn to face him; it’s better this way. She doesn’t want to look at him yet. There’s this brief period of time that if she looks at him she’ll melt on contact, like a kiss of heat against ice. She’s lose her footing._

_She has to get this out, she_ has _to tell him why she’s upset. Caitlin can’t let this go, Barry has to_ understand—

_“This is about the meta-human right?” He treads lightly, but that won’t help him. “I don’t know what you expected me to do—”_

_“I expect that you won’t get yourself killed.” She snaps, finally turns and looks at him._

_Barry looks wounded, he perfects that look even though she knows he doesn’t try to. And her chest aches for causing those drawn together brows and the downward tug of his lips, because she wants nothing more than to just—lean in. Kiss him. Fold into his touch. Allow him to take her home._

_It’d be so easy—_

_“And I was supposed to what? Let_ you _die?” He asks, tone pinched._

 _She runs a frustrated hand through her hair, because she understands. She gets that position. She’s_ been _in that position before and it’s not easy to choose the higher road. To consider something selfishly about yourself when you can save someone you care about. Someone who means so much more._

_A meta-human who could crush bones with the power of her mind thought a very unoriginal idea that the way to get to the Flash was to kidnap someone he loved and use them as leverage. And it seems that no matter how many times it happens, it still manages to set them off their game. The meta could have taken Iris, her and Caitlin were together at the time, but instead she chose to take Caitlin and threatened to break every bone in her body until the Flash made himself known to rescue her._

_Despite her pleas, Barry showed up. He rescued her. But it came with a price. Almost every single bone in his body had been shattered. Even at his accelerated healing rate, if the meta-human would have had him in her mental clutches for much longer, he would have died._

_“Yes.” She says, her voice a lot stronger than she feels. “Because when it comes down to you or me, you pick yourself, Barry. You pick yourself every time.”_

_But that’s not who Barry is, that’s who he’ll never be. Caitlin knows that, but she has to try. Doesn’t he_ get _it? Doesn’t he understand that she can’t lose one more person. She can’t._

_Barry takes a step forward, touches her shoulders, squeezes very gently. His thumbs work in calming circles against her collarbone, the heat of his skin seeping into the fabric of her shirt, her pores._

_“You know I can’t do that.” He whispers._

_Now she’s angry. She pushes his hands away, taking a step back from him. Away from his warmth, his touch, his caring eyes. It’s too much._

_“You could have died.”_

_He’s still so patient. “I didn’t.”_

_This conversation feels too familiar, one they’ve had too many times. It’s not the fact that he didn’t die, it’s the fact that he came too close to it—_

_“You almost did,” Her voice is loud, echoes against the lab walls. She points to a nearby x-ray of his ribcage. Moves to a table where six more are sitting, of his bones, broken pieces of him. “Five more seconds,” She points out, her hands shaking, matching the jumps in her voice. “That’s all it could have taken—”_

_Barry takes a step towards her, clasps onto her wrist, whispers ‘stop’ and she lets the x-rays fly out of her hand and flutter to the floor but she doesn’t do as he asks._

_“And then what Barry? Then what would have happened? I know how important being the Flash is to you. But you can’t help anyone if you’re dead.”_

_Her words are harsh, but it’s something she wants him to hear. He stares at her for a long moment, shaking his head before letting his hand fall from her wrist. Barry turns, rubbing the back of his neck, she can note the tense frustration along his shoulders._

_“You think this is what I wanted?” He finally asks her, angry pinpricks along the syllables of his words. “That I wanted this...this gift, this_ burden _? That I can help so many people but put everyone that I care about in danger?”_

_“I told you to leave me.”_

_“You’re the only person I know who’d be angry at someone for saving their life.” He sounds exasperated, and she understands that they’ve had this conversation before, that there’s a very small part of this that sounds utterly ridiculous because she knows he can’t change who he is._

_That he’ll save her no matter what, every time, no matter the cost. And_ that’s _the point._

 _And this is where the argument blooms another branch, because for the life of her she can’t think of_ why _she says it but it slips from her mouth anyways—_

_“If it would have been Iris, would you have respected her wishes?”_

_Barry freezes, turns to look at her now, his mouth set into a hard line. Caitlin isn’t sure where this is coming from, she loves Iris, she’s come to know her as an incredibly strong and intelligent woman. But there’s…always been something there. Directly in the background. Barry’s feelings for her, though faded with time, will always be right underneath the surface. But it’s irrelevant to this conversation, yet she brings it up anyways._

_Because sometimes there’s these moments where Iris says ‘jump’ and Barry doesn’t even ask ‘how high’. He just does it. And that’s a cruel analogy for her to make, it’s partly made out of jealousy, insecurity, and so much more. Because Iris has this hold over Barry that will never quite disappear._

_Caitlin considers herself a strong woman, confident in herself and who she is—but she’s still human because she has feelings. Because she cares about Barry and is always worried that something, or someone, will take that from her._

_“Are you really asking me that?” Barry scoffs, shaking his head. “Because you have to know that it doesn’t matter who would been in that position. I still would have saved them.”_

_But she doesn’t stop there, because these words have been etched into her ribcage and she’s never let them leave. They’ve caused cracks and fractures, pain from things left unspoken. She should have asked him in a situation where she’s not angry and he’s not frustrated._

_“You still love her.”_

_“Of course I love her.” This is not the conversation they should have been having, this isn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to force him out of his comfort zone to talk about this—there was a time and place for this discussion. And this wasn’t it. Not when they weren’t quite sure what they were yet. Not when she originally was angry because of his safety. “She’s my best friend. I’ll always love her.”_

_He doesn’t say ‘in’ love with her but Caitlin wonders if there’s a difference. Something has changed in Barry’s demeanor, he’s angry with her. She’s not sure if it’s from the same the consistent fight that’s her worrying about him or probing accusations about Iris and his feelings for her._

_Either way, she’s seen Barry upset before and it comes from a deep seeded hurt that blooms outward. She can feel it in his gaze, can see it in those dark green pools of his eyes. She’s hurt him._

_“Maybe you’ve lost so much that you don’t realize when you’re holding onto someone too tight.”_

Caitlin remembers how that felt. His words a punch to her chest. Was that how he saw her caring? Her worrying? Squeezing too tight?  Suffocating him? Barry had come to say he was sorry a day or so later, a sheepish look on his face and far too much regret. But they hadn’t completely healed from one apology alone.

They drifted apart.

And Caitlin found Jay, while Barry danced around the idea of him and Iris. Back and forth and back and forth. He and Caitlin remained friends, but that intimacy in their relationship was gone—perhaps dormant. She missed him, she missed his touch, his kiss---things she didn’t realize she _could_ miss about a person, yet did.

Sometimes she wonders what other people thought of them, if Cisco or Iris or others noticed the shift in their relationship. Cisco sometimes gave her those _looks_ like he wanted to ask her but never did. It’s not like she wanted to keep the idea of her and Barry from anyone, she wasn’t ashamed of trying to figure out what it exactly was between them—but she also felt like it was something private. That no one else needed to know or understand until they did.

She supposes it doesn’t matter because things fell apart.

When Jay was seemingly taken from her, Barry was there. In an instant. Catching her against his chest when Zoom punched him directly through his chest and she _screamed._ He prevented her from stepping forward, from getting hurt.

And he was there hours later when she finally crumbled.

_“Not again,” She chokes on a sob, bringing her face into her hands. “Not again. I c-can’t lose another person like this—”_

_“Shh,” Barry sinks down next to her spot on the floor, she hasn’t moved from where Jay last was. Other people have come and gone but Caitlin doesn’t break until Barry is there. He unlocks something in her, the need to be strong, she understands that she doesn’t always have to be when he’s there._

_“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” He whispers. “I’m here.”_

_That she can crack and fall apart, because he can put her back together no matter how jagged the pieces are. His touch is gentle and she’s missed it, creates an entirely different ache that feels wrong in this moment. But that’s just the thing about opposites, somehow they always gravitate back to one another. Even when one least expects it._

_Barry curls her hair around her ear, his face contorted with pain because she’s hurting and he can’t fix it fast enough. He draws her into his chest, no matter how much she resists._

_“This can’t be happening,” Caitlin cries, tears coursing down her cheeks and absorbing into Barry’s STAR labs sweatshirt. He presses his lips to her hair and holds her tightly, shushing her when her sobs echo against his chest. He doesn’t let her go even when she stops squeezing him incredibly tight, exhaustion popping along her bloodstream, even when she pulls away and insists she’s okay when he knows she isn’t._

Zoom takes her.

And it’s Jay, she knows it’s Jay, but it’s much easier if she tells herself that this isn’t him. That the man she knew was not like this. That he cares about her, deep down and that that _matters._ It still matters. Doesn’t it? It has to. Because…she can’t reason with herself for caring about someone so volatile, so cruel and manipulative.

What does that say about her? That she came to trust a man that was dark and unstable and nearly killed Barry too many times to count.

But then.

Zoom lets her go. She’s…safe now right? She’s safe. She’s back at STAR labs and Barry’s father is there trying to take her blood pressure. She’s trembling but she’s not cold. How does she tell Barry’s father that he’s _dead._ Or does he already know…he’s taking it fairly well.

Though, she understands death to a certain extent. She’s been through loss, of loved ones. Of friends. She thinks that maybe if one’s exposed to it often enough it settles into your bones. Becomes something you can get used to. As awful as it sounds.

“Caitlin?”

That seems to snap her out of the state she keeps getting stuck in, an odd in-between dozing that’s a mix of memories and things that are happening to her right now. She looks up at her name being called, lets out a breath that feels like it’s been sitting in her chest for too long because it hurts. Barry. It’s _Barry._

His father’s voice sounds disconnected, like his mouth is moving but the sound has already escaped. He’s checking her skin again, her eyes, her pulse.

“She's in shock. A little dehydrated and malnourished but I think she'll be fine.”

Caitlin nods as Barry kneels in front of her, his hand instantly going to her leg. It’s warm, _he’s_ warm. He’s here and he’s not dead. He’s right in front of her, eyes too kind, expression too concerned. It almost hurts to look at him but she can’t look away.

She thought—

“I’m okay.” She says to comfort him but her voice is rough and crushed and it sounds like she might cry. She feels like crying. She might, her eyes are misting over and blinks repeatedly to stop.

Caitlin’s hand falls onto the one Barry has on her leg and his thumb strokes back and forth along the inside of her wrist.

“What happened? How did you get away?”

She can feel everyone’s eyes on her, the effect dizzying, she squeezes Barry’s hand a little harder and concentrates. She can do this, she can talk about this. She’s so much stronger than Jay gave her credit for.

“He...let me go.” She says slowly, carefully, like each word holds their own meaning. “I didn't think he would. I thought it was a trap.” Caitlin’s eyes meet Barry’s and her voice catches in her throat, her mind drifts to a million of images flickering in front of her vision.

Barry, on the ground, blood leaking from his ears, his mouth, his nose—cold. Unresponsive.

“He told me you were dead.” She manages, her hand squeezing his incredibly hard. Like it’s exactly what she needs to convince herself that he’s there. That he’s _right there_ in front of her.

Barry shakes his head, allows her to crush his hand as hard as she needs to, his other settling on top of her wrist. He holds her gaze for a few moments before offering a small smile that he hopes is comforting. It is.

“I'm not. I'm right here.” He says firmly, his one hand turning to lace their fingers together. She watches the movement and for some reason it calms her, heartrate slowing in her chest. “We're all here,” Barry continues, “Together. Jay's not here, you're safe.”

He holds her gaze for a while until she nods, slowly but surely. Caitlin lets out a short breath, tries to grasp onto her bearings. The others are talking, but Barry continues to keep his eyes on her. She can feel them even when she looks away, down at their hands. At the floor. At anything that’s not him or the others.

She’s never felt so weak before. She hates it.

They think they can stop Zoom, the hope and determination in Barry’s voice won’t let her try and tell him otherwise. She’s suddenly very tired. Someone is asking her another question and she blinks as she looks up in the direction of the voice. Colors blend together and she shakes her head.

“Snow, anything you can tell us about Zoom? There must be a reason he let you go.” Harrison repeats.

She shakes her head, tries to open her mouth to say something but it keeps getting stuck. Caitlin can see Harrison shift on his feet, a calm yet impatient look dancing on his face. He wants to ask her the same question again, she can sense it but Barry’s had enough.

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear and stands up from his position on the floor to put an arm around her. “You've been through a lot, you should get some rest. Come on.”

Caitlin stands on wobbly legs and leans into Barry’s chest as they walk back to her lab. His hand remains on her lower back the entire time, a constant weight to remind her that he’s got her. That she’s safe. She can feel other’s eyes on them, tracing over their forms, analyzing her in a way that makes her feel like she’s under a microscope. She wonders what Iris thinks, specifically, because she knows that look. There’s a soft smile tugging the at the gorgeous girl’s mouth, she’s happy she’s home, that Barry can stop worrying.

But there’s something else too, a conflicting emotion that’s playing with her eyes.

It’s something they’ve had in common before. Of something you want slipping right between your fingers.

Barry carefully sets her down on one of the cots that are in her lab, his hands lingering on her longer than necessarily. She finds herself leaning into the touch, closing her eyes against it, memorizing it like it might evaporate. Like this whole thing isn’t as real as she wants it to be.

“Did he hurt you?”

She opens her eyes and looks up at him, shaking her head. “No.” She swallows. “No, he didn’t kidnap me to hurt me…it was--”

There’s something struggling behind Barry’s green eyes, something cold and harsh and _angry_ mixed with reserved patience. She realizes he’s trying not to display any emotions that aren’t comforting, that aren’t soft and gentle and everything that she needs.

“To hurt _me.”_ Barry finishes, his voice quiet. “He’s done pretty well with that. If anything would have happened to you…”

Caitlin shakes her head, her hand cupping Barry’s face. It’s incredibly forward with the space they’ve put between one another—yet nothing has felt as right as that in a very long time. He turns his cheek into the touch, his lips brushing against her palm, sending waves of fluttering wings against the inside of her stomach.

It feels natural, this thing between them slipping back into place. Natural movements, their intimacy. It feels like coming home.

“Nothing did. I’m just…exhausted.”

Barry smiles softly, “You look it.”

She smirks off his expression, can’t help it. “Gee Barry Allen, you sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

He flushes that adorable pink that she’s missed, his cheeks misting over with a rose color. “You know what I mean.”

It’s quiet for a moment, a soft smile playing with Barry’s lips and Caitlin mirroring his expression as best she can. It doesn’t exactly match but the _warmth_ she feels does. She’s tired and scared and she’s still not a hundred percent sure she isn’t hallucinating this whole thing.

The fact that Barry is alive, right in front of her, breathing and being.

He watches her for a long moment, leaning his head forward until their foreheads press together. She closes her eyes and breathes him in, skin and cologne and laundry detergent. So familiar and distinct that she almost drowns in it.

It’s him. This is real.

“I’m going to get you something comfortable to sleep in,” He whispers, his breath brushing over the pores on her face. She nods her head, misses the heat of his body when he pulls back and stands. “It might take me a bit longer, no more super speed.”

Caitlin offers a broken smile. “That’s alright, I didn’t like when you made my hair do that flyaway look anyways.” It’s a terrible joke, but he manages a small laugh before pulling back.

He’s missed her.

And she’s missed him.

He’s almost out the door when she manages to ask, “Will you stay?” Caitlin doesn’t mean right now, this very second, but…in general. Here in STAR labs. Where she sleeps. Will he stay with her? But her brain feels incredibly muffled and there’s words getting stuck and meanings are getting lost.

Barry pauses and leans his hand on the doorframe, nodding his head. There’s this look on his face like she didn’t need to ask but is glad she did at the same time. “I’m not going anywhere.” He tells her and once again, waits for her to nod, before he heads out of the lab to find her the clothes he offered.

Caitlin pinches the bridge of her nose, kicking her shoes off before pulling her legs up onto the bed. She lies down and tries not to fall asleep, but her body has other plans in mind as soon as her head hits the pillow.

_It’s cold where she is. The ground is hard, digging into her bones and bruising them. Feels like steel and concrete, unforgiving mediums. She’s bleeding but she’s not…exactly sure where the source is. Everything is muddled, fuzzy around the edges._

_Her head aches and her chest hurts like she’s been breathing little pinpricks into her lungs. She sits up, everything spins._

_“Careful, gorgeous.”_

_She knows that voice and frowns. It’s her own. She blinks and looks up, sees a flash of white, of blue. Black leather._

_Her doppelganger._

_Killer Frost kneels before her, giving a small pout that makes her look even more deadly. Her eyes are a grayish white, a hue that reminds her of the calm before a snow storm. “Wouldn’t want you to pass out again before it’s all over.”_

_Caitlin’s heart starts ramming in her chest, because…what does that_ mean. _There’s struggling, she can barely hear it over the pounding in her ears. Someone is—choking. She looks over her shoulder and—_

_“Barry!” She screams, tries to scramble to her feet but collapses again. Slips on ice. There’s a giggling behind her that sounds warped. Zoom has Barry’s neck in his one hand, he’s lifting him from the ground. Barry is struggling, he can’t breathe—this feels all too familiar._

_“I think I might start calling you Bambi.” Killer Frost purrs, stroking her brown hair away from her face before she_ pulls, _forces her neck back to watch the entire scene before her. Caitlin’s hand flies to her head, fingertips pressing against something warm. The blood is coming from a gash on her head. “Watch, watch until it ends.”_

_Zoom turns to look at her, he’s got his mask on, blue sparks fizzle from his touch, his voice garbled and terrifying. Nails on a chalkboard sound that sends panic right through her nerve endings._

_“How many times can you lose someone you love, Cait,” Zoom taunts, squeezing tighter around Barry’s neck. Caitlin struggles to get free, whimpers at the pulling on her hair, wants to spit at him that he has no right to call her that but—_

_Something cold grips her ribcage, squeezes inward. It has nothing to do with Killer Frost and her icy touch. It’s the fact that’s slowly closing in on her that she won’t be able to save Barry—not this time._

_She panics._

_“Until you lose a part of yourself?” And that’s it. His fist closes in a sickeningly fast motion, crushing Barry’s windpipe. Caitlin screams, struggles, watches as the light disappears from his eyes—_

No, this can’t be happening. Not again. _Not again._ She struggles against the hands on her, writhing, she has to get away, she has to get to Barry. She _screams—_

“Caitlin,” Barry catches her arm as she swings at him, getting tangled in the sheets. “ _Cait,_ hey, it’s me.”

Her eyes fly open, she recognizes that voice, her vision coming into focus. Her heart is pounding so loud that she can’t hear anything for a few moments. She starts recognizing things, but it’s very…slow, her senses dulled, like she’s experiencing everything underwater. Barry’s bright and forest green concerned eyes, the heat of his palms melting into her own skin, the calm soothing nature of his voice—settles onto her body like a warm blanket.

“It’s okay,” He says gently, “You’re at STAR labs. You’re okay.”

Caitlin takes a jagged breath, oxygen sticking to the inside of her lungs, her hands falling onto his forearms. She squeezes tightly, nodding her head a little. Barry is right—she’s okay. She’s in STAR labs. She’s back to where she belongs.

Barry strokes her hair, lets his hand linger against the side of her neck. He tucks her hair behind her ear, does this a few times over again. Fingers travel up to the crown of her head and strokes through the dark strands, very slow motions, calming.

“Just a dream,” He whispers. “There you go. Just breathe.”

She concentrates, memorizes the soothing motions of the other’s breathing to match her own and eventually it all clicks into place and she relaxes. Her body folds in on itself and she rests her forehead against Barry’s shoulder, deflating like a balloon slowly losing air.

Moments past between them, it’s quiet. She picks up humming monitors, the lab creaking and resting, Barry’s breathing and heartbeat becoming indistinguishable from her own. His hand removes itself from her hair and starts to travel down her back, pressured circles along her spine.

“I’m sorry,” She says eventually, voice muffled against Barry’s sweatshirt.

He allows her to pull back from him when she’s ready and there’s the smallest of smiles playing with his lips at her apology. Barry shakes his head, eyes tracing the contour of her face, almost like he’s memorizing certain parts of her.

“Why are you apologizing? I’ve seen you have nightmares before.”

A small laugh sneaks up on her, which is fine. She’d much rather laugh than end up crying. Because Barry is…once again he’s _here._ And he’s safe. She trusts in what he’s told her and the others—they’re going to stop Zoom. It might take everything in them; new plans and strategies but they’ll get there.  

She has to believe in that; because there’s no point in any of this if she doesn’t.

“Those don’t count. They came from far too many horror movies before bed.”

Barry grins at her, “Is that a blaming tone I hear in your voice, Dr. Snow? Because those movies weren’t my idea.”

She goes to smack his chest but Barry catches her wrist, holding it gently between his fingers. If anything he uses the situation to pull her closer, manipulates their proximity, his eyes dancing a bright leaf green.

“You’re absolutely right, they _were_ my idea. It’s not my fault you’ve never seen classics like _The Conjuring.”_

He scrunches his nose and she fights the urge to kiss it. “I wouldn’t call _The Conjuring_ a classic. _The Exorcist,_ maybe.  Besides, I was told movies like that couldn’t scare you because you didn’t believe in ghosts.”

“Or demonic possession.” Caitlin shakes her head, smiling a little wider at the teasing tone in his voice. “I don’t, it’s not empirically possible.”

Barry snorts, “Says the girl who had the nightmares. You were squeezing me so tight I thought I was going to lose an arm.”

Caitlin gasps, her hand wriggling in the other’s grip so she can properly swat him for such commentary. He doesn’t let go though, which is fine, she doesn’t exactly want him to. “I did not! Besides, tell that to my subconscious, I can’t control what I dream about.” She pauses, “Ghosts or…otherwise.”

He nods softly, setting their hands down on his lap. The smile has faded from his face but there’s still this…comfortableness on his face, gratitude maybe. Relief definitely.

“I know.” His fingers start stroking her skin, leaving a shiver to travel down her spine. “I suppose if I tell you to stop worrying about me, that won’t exactly do anything will it.”

It’s not a question but Caitlin shakes her head anyways. “Afraid not. Just like I’m sure you’re not going to stop worrying about _me_ any time soon.”

Barry looks down at their hands, shrugs his one shoulder like there’s actually a choice in the matter. He doesn’t have to say anything for her to know where he stands on that.

“I was trying to find you,” He says after a moment, voice quiet and intimate in way that she’s heard before. Moments in bed, in-between kisses, something she’s wanted to hear in a long time. They haven’t been apart for an extended amount of time, but it’s felt like months.

She knows that they’ve never exactly been _anything_ but it’s always felt like everything.

“Barry…” Caitlin doesn’t want him to do this to himself.

“No, I tried but I couldn’t… and I just keep thinking, what if Zoom wouldn’t have let you go?”

“You can’t think like that,” She presses, her other hand resting on his shoulder. She squeezes gently before letting her palm travel down the other’s arm. “I’m here. And I’m safe.” She repeats his words, a conversation they’ve had on opposite sides too many times. “Stop carrying the world on your shoulders, superhero. You’re going to ruin your back.”

He smirks a little, shaking his head before lifting his chin. And their eyes meet. “Good thing I have you to help me carry some of that weight hmm?” He chews on the inside of his cheek, her gaze getting lost in his. “Something I can’t do without you.”

Caitlin smiles, tucks her hair behind her ear, “Well you’ve got me,” She tells him, something warm settles in her stomach. Low and heated, spreads outwards, fills her up. He’s got her in more ways than one, but that’s clear in how she says it. No need for further explanation. “I think we both know that.”

Barry nods but says nothing. He doesn’t have to, he slowly closes the space between them, his eyes never leaving hers. Their lips press together, dry, uncertain but there’s a heated spark underneath. Something familiar rejuvenated as their lips work together to find a rhythm. She leans against his chest and he cups her cheek, thumb tracing over her cheekbone in an intimate way he’s done before. Two pieces slotting into place; things they’ve done before hold more meaning again, the time and space between them putting more emphasis on how much they’ve missed one another.

Caitlin tilts her head into the kiss, Barry not pulling back until he absolutely has to. They’re both a bit breathless, panting gently against one another’s mouths. Barry can’t stop smiling, his lips finding different parts of her face to press a kiss.

“Can you take me home?” She asks softly, her nose bumping into his cheek.

Barry nods, moves to stand and helps her out of bed, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close as they walk. She looks up at him with a soft smile on her lips to which he replies with a gentle kiss to her forehead.

She may not be entirely sure what they are, whether they have to define it in so many words or actions. But she knows that they are _something_ and that that won’t change.  

And maybe that's all she really needs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you like this one you should give my other snowbarry fics a gander :) (melt, cold, I want to, and a date)


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